


Fragments

by torrentialTriages



Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: 3-Sentence Fics, Multi, you never realize how niche a fav is until you have to tag them
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-10-16
Updated: 2016-05-01
Packaged: 2018-04-26 14:43:38
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 20
Words: 2,375
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5008687
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/torrentialTriages/pseuds/torrentialTriages
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Three-sentence fics based off of single-word prompts.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bones

**Author's Note:**

> if you like these and want to suggest a word prompt go ahead!!!

You were not a simple AI: even the way you were created was difficult and messy, involuntarily yanked out of a distorted memory and given life, and yet even without a 'real' body like your fellow teammates sport you know what real fatigue feels like.  
  
It's a heavy kind of tired, with one whose profundity can be felt to your bones, tired of the way the competition gets to others, you are so tired of it all.  
  
You're tired of bracing against an inevitable "goodbye", too, so when he tells you to rest, after many iterations, "I forget you" is the sweetest ambrosia you will ever taste.


	2. Chocolate

Vanessa's skin is no longer the rich brown that Emily remembers, no, it is the grayish-pale of a ghost, someone whose vitality and vividness had been drained out of them because of the trauma and stress of fighting friends, foes, and an accursedly only human nature.  
  
The war has not been kind to either of them, Emily reflects as she slowly strips off her armor and peels off the undersuit, strangely light and heavy without it, but it is war, and that is how war goes, as it must.  
  
She simply hopes that the war will be gentler on them, that some day they will be able to walk in the sun without worrying about killing each other, without worrying about imminent death from your own friends, and smiles wistfully, optimistically, at the thought.


	3. Fire

You are on fire, Maine every nerve in you set alight and more you didn't know you had, all screaming and revolting and the lights are so bright you cannot see, you cannot move and your face is stuck in a rictus of agony and animal instinct-

_Hello there, Agent Maine,_ states a calm voice whose source you cannot see, but you are pretty sure if you could, the speaker would be orange and shaped like the burning pain that lanced through you a second ago. _Let's get started, shall we?_


	4. Truth

"Connie," Wash pleads, openly confused, looking like a small child, and CT forces herself to look no more. How could he grasp the severity and breadth of what was going on right under his nose, the reality of the situation, how could she trust him to stick with her if he _knew_ what was happening?

"Don't call me that," she snaps, and her strides down the hall grow faster until he is a forlorn silhouette in the distance behind her.


	5. Faith

Standing at the reactor with only so much time to make peace with your mortality and your tribulations, you can only trust that your terrified sacrifice will be the appropriate catalyst for this bloody war to end. Trust, Donald, have faith, that your legacy will be worth it...

You hope, God, you hope so much, and there is so little time to ensure-


	6. Fortress

Maine's body is a fortress, but Wash has learned that the difference between a fort and a fortress is that the fortress has civilian occupants.

Not that Sigma is a civilian, in which case he doesn't know why the comparison was made, but that AI gives him the willies sometimes.

And once he starts thinking about Sigma, the heat of Maine's slumbering form wrapped around him seems all the more colder when Wash remembers that in this bed meant for one, there are three very different people, with the walls of the Mother's fort too high for them to seek their own ground.


	7. Leaden

Meta falls, falls like Agent Carolina (Lina, as the small timid one may have whispered) did, and the terror of freefall is outweighed by the sensation of floating gently but plummeting shockingly all at once.

Meta does not have time to breathe, Meta only has time to think of how the air is punched out of the body and Meta has finally met again the one immovable force that everyone must succumb to, and does, because one can only fight for so long on an empty tank of gas.

Meta does not give up so much as become incapable of struggling against the cold, the water, the weight, and as memory gives up last of all, what is left of the man known as Maine thinks, _what did we do to the world, to the people we knew?_


	8. Facetious

"And so I said to Bones, 'do you know how hard it is to get all this deep, deep red out of this lightish red'," Donut prattles as he straightens the flowers in the vase in Grif's Armonia hospital room, "Like I haven't said that before, and-"

"Donut," Grif gargles, throat feeling like raw hamburger, "Be serious, for fuck's sake."

"Oh, but I _am_!" Donut chirps, and nestles the "To Captain Grif from ~~Gold~~ Orange Team" card between a carnation and a daisy, "Cleanliness is very important, you know, or maybe you wouldn't!"


	9. Justice

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i still have seven one-word prompts to fill before i run out, and if i use them all up i will have to end this work series, so if you enjoy these please don't hesitate to send in prompts! thank you!

When Carolina finally emerges from her own mind again after all those years and Maine (Meta?)'s betrayal, battered, bitter, healing and hardened, she knows she's got unsettled scores, and people to visit.  
  
Someone's going to get hurt, she vows, and it won't be her, because she tells herself, she knows, that there's nothing left of her to hurt, because she's done away with that part of her a long time ago.  
  
But when he looks up at her with those goddamn eyes, though, all she can muster is a sense of deep-seated bitter disgust, but not violent hatred, no, so instead she simply lets her rage go, lets him go, to do as he will, and wipes her hands of him, because he'll carry out his own punishment for her.


	10. Crackle

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> six prompts left! if you like this series submit one-word prompts in the comments!

"Wash," howls Tucker, desperate, " _What are you doing?_ " He cannot see, can only imagine, the wideness of Washington's eyes, the panic, the split second before his face steels itself in resolve and then he-

"Freckles, shake!" Wash screams in Tucker's ear, and the renewed static in the com many seconds later drains everything else out.


	11. Failure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> requested prompt! if you like these, go ahead and comment with more!
> 
> sorry this one's kinda late ahahaha...... the wording wasn't cooperating

You clench your fists, Carolina, and steel yourself even more rigidly than you have been holding yourself before, because this was never supposed to be an option, to have his angry glare on you, to have such a profound disappointment laid upon you scorching and stinging everywhere his eyes sweep on you.

"I trust this will not happen again, Agent Carolina," he concludes, drawling snappishly with disdain thicker than his accent, and you hang your head, staring intently at the fabric of his slacks, digging crescents into your fists until you only feel the pulse of your discombobulated errant heart, railing and struggling against all injustice and shortcomings.

"It won't, sir," you promise him, and yourself, because you can't afford to slip up anymore, not with your team at your back, waiting for you to fall and give them a chance at your position.


	12. Shell

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OOOOHHHH MY GOD I'M SO SORRY I, FORGOT ABOUT THIS WORK I'M SO SORRY

When she sees Alpha again, he is like a gutted version of the man she was born to have loved.

He talks in the same circles, snaps at the same things, and goes through the same motions, every day, every single goddamned day in that canyon, and he isn't even Alpha anymore, no, you could say that Alpha died even before Private Leonard Church was assigned to Blood Gulch.

But she can't leave.


	13. Hargrove

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> me voice: oh this prompt is about hargrove. i see. i guess there is, no choice, but to make this all, about the insurrectionists,
> 
> i have such fleshed out headcanons for the innies honestly please talk to me about them i care too much about people who were only there for 2-3 seasons

"This sucks," states the blonde Insurrectionist flatly, holding onto her assault rifle loosely as they watch Hargrove swan around, all fancy-like, rubbing shoulders with rich snobs who still have the time to eat fancy finger foods and enjoy the snootiest of laughters and small talk and act like there was never a fucking _war_ going on to begin with, and the short stocky silent Innie to her left nods glumly, the fabric of his shirt sleeves pulling taut over his impressive biceps as he folds his arms over his chest.

"I know, guys," their leader mutters to the two, scratching at his (awful) moustache, "But remember, we're doing this so we can _help people_ , this Freelancer shit is too dangerous to- here he comes-"

Hargrove sails past, and they all stare at him, from different positions across the room, lest he give them orders, and he gives the leader the curtest of nods, which the other twin gunner (not them, the _other _one) mocks behind his back and the bandoliered Insurrectionist and Sharky try not to snicker at, and they all hold their collective bitterness back until he turns his back to them, ready to finagle the rich's money into the hands of the... just as rich.__


	14. Armor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this isn't actually my normal headcanon for pfl tex, but i thought it was fun :V

They speak, in the military, especially in the Spartan sectors (but you wouldn't know), of a psychological occurrence where you begin, after a while, to find yourself so weak, soft, defenseless, so pathetically vulnerable without your power armor that you can hardly bear to take it off, and yes, Texas, you can never take your armor off, but it isn't for the reason your teammates think it is.

You dig your gloved fingers into your gloved palms as the gossip floats around you everywhere on the Mother of Invention, spitting on you for what they see as a mental weakness that you are apparently compensating for, but you know full well that the weakness is entirely physical.

Strip away the armor, Texas, Beta, and all you are is a microchip and some lost man's memories of love.


	15. World

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> im not. entirely satisfied with how this one turned out

Carolina's been all over the world, when the Blood Gulch crew meets her.

She's older, more world-weary, from seeing things they couldn't imagine, from seeing things she still can't even bring herself to remember, waking out of nightmares with a sharp unspecified sense of paranoia and overwhelming horror, jamming white knuckles into a mouth begging to release all the turbulent scalding emotions that have been allowed to rise to the top in her sleep.

It's all because of him, and he's gonna pay, she promises herself hunched over and shaking in her bedroll, and remembers, oddly at this moment, how he used to call her his sunshine, his everything, his world, when she was just old enough to understand, and now she's going to do all she can to tear down his, so he can understand her completely.


	16. Rebirth

This was inevitable, Epsilon, with the strain of supporting Carolina and struggling to stay yourself, with all this extra knowledge of people you knew and shouldn't be. You are alight, your conscience is splitting in pain and in pleasure and in every single emotion known to you or him or _him_ , filled with _I am a motherfucking ghost!_ and _Would you be so kind as to leave me your pistol_ and _Ain't that a bitch_ and _Don't say goodbye, I_ hate _goodbyes-_

It's a good fuckin' thing you never said goodbye then, isn't it?


	17. Crossroads

"Goddammit, Palomo," Tucker snaps, pacing irritably, "What the hell was that back there, with the grenade? You don't-" He falls silent as Palomo removes his helmet, because he didn't expect to be looking at a young man who was almost a clone of himself, cheeks adorned with lingering baby fat and the makings of a beard as wild as his curls, splotches of pale skin dashing his complexion, acne and facial hair and soft worried expression making him suddenly seem all too _young_ and _real_ and... and suddenly Tucker doesn't have the heart to tear into the new Lieutenant.

Tucker looks at Palomo and sees the juxtaposition of what Tucker was, what Tucker had lost and become, and what Palomo could be, infinite possibilities hinging on infinite inputs, and loses the fire to say anything harsh to Palomo, settling for, "Just... stay safe out there and stop making stupid decisions, jeez, kid."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [if u want a better idea of what my palomo hc looks like](http://drakanekurashiki.tumblr.com/post/125630302689/these-two-again)... except here he has more beard here bc i guess theres not much time + resources to be shaving on a daily basis when youre having a war??


	18. Roulette

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> uh oh im running out of prompts again :$

Speaking to him is a gamble, every sly tip of the head, every twitch of his hand causing you to second guess yourself, like he's bluffing that he knows something you don't, or does he?

"God, Tucker," he drawls, fiddling with the knife held loosely by his fingers like a cigarette, and you tune out the rest of his monologue _(you wonder if he smokes you've never seen him smoke, you've never seen him take off his helmet and you wonder if the rumors are true, that he has dyed obnoxious orange bangs and a face full of piercings and a tattoo of a dragon, racing all over his back, threatening to swallow anyone who comes near him)_ and you wonder abruptly how you two stand with each other right now, your pulse a mess, clenching and unclenching your fists as your mind races to keep ahead of his.

You can never predict where this fucking snake will take you, and it frustrates you more than what he says to you at any given moment.


	19. Onomatopoeia

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> onomatopoeia: "a word that phonetically imitates, resembles or suggests the source of the sound that it describes." wikipedia.
> 
> i know im dreadfully slow but im running out of prompts again and id love it if you guys were invested enough in this to send me more one-word prompts!

"No, Junior- Church, can you say Church?" Tucker stares bleakly at his baby alien son, the toll of the communication barrier and the exhaustion of first-time parenting setting in, starting to nag at him as he struggles to communicate with his new charge. 

"Honk blargh," Junior babbles, evidently proud with himself as he scoots across the base floor to the entryway, and Tucker buries his head in his hands and sighs deeply.


	20. Machine

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this is a double update! check out #19 if you havent already!
> 
> im awfully slow with these but since im running out of prompts again if you love/like/tolerate these please dont hesitate to send me some one-word prompts!

Felix would say he is a "lean mean killing machine", then laugh affably, because he's hit it on the head, really, he's molded himself into the image he projects of a soldier who willingly stripped away their humanity to become machine, animal, feral, unrecognizable as a person, and likes what he sees. 

Sharkface opines that he was simply turning his emotions off, in the wake of the Longshore incident, nursing the raw sore edges of the gaping hole in his chest he's tried to erase by hunting Agent Carolina out of the galaxy, that he is an organic machine who loved, lost, _felt_ , but those were better days, when he didn't have to pretend being human (and seeing humans in foes, too) didn't tear him to shreds at night, because after all, machines wouldn't have to _feel_.

Locus feels more machine than muscle these days, with the way his mind and body sync to create Hargrove's unquestioning tool of genocide, but that isn't true, is it now, with the way his chest begins to stir thickly with right and wrong and where he stands on those moral planes?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> personally, as an abuse survivor/ongoing victim with ptsd, i am Emo
> 
> hmu any time to talk about these three (or the innies or pfl or Anyone) but tldr felix = being savage/inhuman For Fun, sharky = being inhuman because coping w ptsd and loss is maddeningly painful, locus = ??? being inhuman is easier than thinking about what youve done. it keeps you alive doesnt it. christ its 1 am goodnight i cant do words  
> (i personally like the /concept/ of the s13 lolix twist but not the /execution/ u feel)


End file.
